


Eagle of the Star

by hennethgalad



Category: Tolkien - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Legolas meets the young Aragorn





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monkiainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen/gifts).



   

           The Eagle of the Star

 

   In the third year of the sun after the eruption of Orodruin, Mithrandir came to Rhovanion with a strange companion. This was no elf, though as fair of face as any of the Eldar, and fairer than most. He was a mortal man, Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil, rightwise born king of Arnor and Gondor. For the purpose of completing his education, Mithrandir had advised he travel, and for his safety's sake he had assumed the identity of Thorongil, a mere ranger of the north.

   Legolas looked curiously at the tall figure standing before his father in the smaller reception room. His hair was clean and shining, but the rippling tresses gave him an indefinable scruffiness, as though he were beyond the help of even the most skilled of barbers. Legolas compared it unfavourably to the beauty of Glorfindel's famous locks; it was in the same style, but Glorfindel's shimmering golden hair completely eclipsed Aragorn's dark brown mop...

   Legolas rebuked himself, the mortal had a certain quality that held the eye, he was as beautiful as all the line of Lúthien, but there was something more to him, a focus and intensity that made him appear more solid than the elves, and even old Mithrandir, all around him. Where Aragorn seemed both opaque and brightly coloured, the rest of them looked transparent, blurred, faded... Legolas caught the slate-grey eyes watching him, and something made him smile warmly. Aragorn's solemn face lit up, and he suddenly seemed very young to Legolas, as indeed he was, a mere twenty six years of the sun; for an elf he would still be considered a child. But then, reflected Legolas, his own father still considered him a child and he was many times older than Aragorn.

  
   He became aware that his father had just addressed him, and that everyone was looking expectantly at him. He flushed, wondering if he was as mature as he liked to think.  
   'I apologise, father, I did not hear your last words.'

  
   Aragorn took a step forward, his eyes still fixed on Legolas, and said 'Your father requested that you show me your fair realm, while he and Mithrandir discuss weighty matters of policy.'

  
   Legolas swallowed, surprised at his own confusion; he had met many mortals, he had fought in the Battle of Five Armies alongside thousands of them, but he had never seen anyone, mortal or elf, who affected him so intensely as this vivid, vibrant young man.

  
   'I, it would be an honour and a pleasure. Like all those who love their home, I will take pride in sharing its beauty with a stranger. Furthermore, it is an honour to welcome the heir of Isildur to Rhovanion.' he said, his voice growing in assurance with every word. Aragorn smiled politely and bowed, hand on breast, and Legolas did likewise 'This way, please, Thorongil, if that is how you would be addressed ?'

  
   Aragorn nodded 'If it please you, sire, Mithrandir thinks it best that my identity remain hidden, for the Enemy has pursued my family with murderous intent for many Ages.'

  
   Legolas smiled grimly 'Even now he nests his foul spawn in the former dwelling of my own family, in that place which we now call Dol Guldur. It was of old a fair castle on a hill, overlooking the southern vales of the Forest. Now, alas, it is a place of darkness and dread, and long years have passed since any of us ventured near to it.

   But tell me, what would you like to see first ? We have many fine examples of architecture, museums, art galleries, restaurants, craft workshops, guildhouses, theatres, clubs, societies, ballrooms, taverns...' Legolas paused, Aragorn's eyes had lit up at the word tavern.

  
   'Truly, it is a wearying ride from Imladris, and I long for a glass or two of wine. Mithrandir tells me that your father is an expert on wine, and I am eager to sample the famous wine of Dorwinion.'

  
   Legolas grinned, paused for a moment to think, then grinned again as he decided where to take Aragorn 'Follow me, then, and I will take you down to The Harpstring, by the Musician's Guild, there is always music and laughter in there, whatsoever the hour, for musicians, more than any others, keep strange hours. Do you play ?'

  
   Aragorn lowered his eyes and shook his head 'Alas, no, I fear I was always too restless to sit longer at lessons than I was required to. Elrond in his kindness filled my hours with expert instruction from the finest teachers, but my heart was always roaming the wild with Glorfindel and the sons of Elrond.'

  
   Legolas looked keenly at him, envying the ease with which he spoke of a great legend like Glorfindel, or even the mighty sons of Elrond... He led the way down long broad stairs carved into the living rock, the caverns of the palace of Thranduil were vast, with new hidden chambers often revealed by the experts, tapping and hammering, exploring with echoes like bats, or moles. The great spaces in the limestone were dripping with stalagtites, which were hung with many-coloured lights, and carven into natural and abstract designs, so that every stairwell, passage and hall was an art gallery in itself. Even Aragorn, who had been raised in Imladris, was impressed. Legolas smiled sadly when Aragorn tried to express this.

  
   'However lovely these halls appear, I sometimes think they remind my father too vividly of Menegroth in Doriath, of which this is a mere shadowy imitation, and sadden his heart with memories of lost Beleriand. But what can we do ? We must live somewhere, we must be hidden, we must be fortified, the Enemy pursues my family also, and so we dwell in caves, and my father is daily reminded of all that he has lost. Sometimes, I confess, I wonder if the Enemy does not in fact know exactly where we are, somehow, and moved against Dol Guldur with the express purpose of driving us hence.' He sighed. Aragorn looked thoughtful, Mithrandir had often warned him never to underestimate the power, nor the malice of the Enemy.

  Their path led them through a stout oaken door, into a short, thickly carpeted hallway, containing nothing but another door. This opened onto a steeper staircase, carved into grey, close-grained granite, sparkling with flecks of metal or crystal. Faintly, up the long stairwell, distant music could be heard. Legolas ran briskly down the stairs into the noisy warmth of his favourite tavern. A few cheerful cries greeted him, but he led Aragorn to a quiet alcove away from the bustle of the crowded room. A small group of musicians were rattling out a vigorous dance tune, and Legolas smiled to see Aragorn tapping his foot. The landlord himself hurried to their table and beamed at Legolas.

  
   'Welcome, good sirs, will you take a glass of wine with us ?' he asked politely. Legolas nodded.

  
   'A bottle of the '23 Dorwinion please, and some of those seed crackers you make.' The landlord looked briefly, curiously, at Aragorn, but bowed silently and withdrew. While they waited for their wine, Legolas noticed Aragorn quietly rub his side, as one in pain who would conceal the fact.

  
   'Are you hurt, my friend ? Is there something I could do to ease you ?' he asked.

Aragorn smiled 'It is nothing, an old injury; but at times, when I am tired, or after a long journey, it aches a little.'

  
   'What caused the injury ?'

  
   'Oh, just an orc arrow, fortunately not poisoned.' he glanced down at himself, then pulled his tunic up, Legolas gasped; running across Aragorn's smoothly muscled skin, the long livid gash of the scar seemed grotesque. Legolas flinched and looked away, then forced himself to meet the amused grey eyes. To his embarrassment Legolas recalled that he himself bore a scar at present, a boar in the Forest had gored his calf muscle, the rough flesh still had not healed fully. He removed his boot, pulled the leg of his breeches up to the knee, and showed Aragorn his own scar.

   Aragorn laughed and said 'We are both as marred as Arda, but you will heal completely, whereas I shall always bear the mark of that noisome orc.'

  
   The landlord returned bearing a bottle and two fine glass goblets on a silver tray. He poured the wine and waited. Legolas looked at Aragorn, who looked puzzled for an instant, then smiled and picked up the glass. He inhaled briefly before sipping the cherry-red wine, then smiled cheerfully at the landlord.

   'Truly, the reports of the quality of your wines were not exaggerations, this is the most exquisite wine I have ever tasted, and I was raised in the House of Elrond in Imladris. You have my congratulations.'

  
   'Thankyou sir, and let me know at once if there is anything else you require.' the landlord melted away and Legolas hurriedly straightened his breeches and stuck his foot back into the boot.

   Aragorn sipped his wine in silence for a moment, then looked seriously at Legolas

   'I am a most fortunate man, there is nothing of which I can complain. And yet...' he paused and sighed 'I was raised in Imladris, among elves, to whom I am no more significant than an injured wild bird a child might care for, for a few days... a fleeting visitor, no more. How can I help but envy you your immortality ?'

  
   Legolas raised his eyebrows 'Surely you know the answer to that ? Mortals have free will, so their time in Arda is brief. We Eldar act only in accordance with the Music of the Ainur, and are here to fulfil the design of Eru.'

  
   Aragorn leaned forward 'But how can we interact, if I am free but you are not ? If it is already known by Eru what you will say and do, how can I be free to talk to you? Surely my freedom is limited by the fact that I must be conforming with your destined actions? '  
Legolas gave a brief look of dismay, he had never enjoyed such serious topics, though it was just the speech he would have anticipated from a protege of Elrond Halfelven, widely acknowledged as the most learned elf left in middle-earth. Though not, thought Legolas, the wisest. Lady Galadriel, last child of Finarfin, held that honour.

   He smiled at Aragorn.

   'Whether either, both or neither of us is free, I have to tell you that I feel free, inasmuch as I am doing the very thing I most want to do, with the very person I most want to be with.' He raised his glass to Aragorn and drank, then nearly choked. Aragorn had frozen, and was looking intently at him. Legolas considered his last words and how they could sound, and then, to his horror, realized that he had been utterly sincere.

  
   Aragorn smiled at him and said 'Let us drink to those we love, and then let us drink to excess.'

 

   Hours later, on their third bottle of the strong wine, Legolas had a moment of clarity. He seemed to have spent the evening laughing, though he could not recall what had amused them so. None of his friends or acquaintances had spoken to him all evening, the two of them had been left alone, even the normally loquacious landlord had silently replaced empty bottles and brought fresh crackers and left him alone with Aragorn; who had kept touching him. First on the arm, then the back, then the hand. Now he was sitting close beside Legolas, their thighs touching, and his arm was on the bench behind Legolas. Legolas suddenly had the thought that he wanted Aragorn to put his hand on Legolas' face, to touch his throat, to kiss him...

   He looked into his eyes and felt almost as if these thoughts were coming from Aragorn himself, as though Legolas could read the very thoughts of Aragorn. He was smiling into Legolas' eyes, and Legolas realized he had been asked a question.

  
   'I apologize, I must have drunk more than I thought, what did you say ?'

  
   'I asked if you knew anywhere we could go for a walk in the fresh air...'  
Legolas felt a shiver run through him, the vigour of this charismatic mortal was intoxicating, he began to understand, for the first time in his life, the choice of Lúthien and Idril Celebrindal. He felt like one who has begun to swim a narrow river, only to find himself swept away by a ferocious current. He rose swiftly to his feet 'Follow me.'

 

   High above the main gate of the palace a long stair emerged onto a small, heavily overgrown terrace. Wisteria and honeysuckle trailed over carved stone railings and hung from the rock of the hillside above them, a living curtain. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, and the breath of the night forest refreshed their hearts.

  
   The terrace was not much larger than a room, certainly too small to take a walk. But there were tables and benches, and Legolas had brought a bottle of the wine with him. Aragorn stood looking down the steep leafy hillside to the bridge below. Legolas looked at the tension in the broad muscular shoulders and wondered how it must feel, knowing your life was no more than a brief moment to the eternity of the Eldar, and his heart was wrung with pity, for Aragorn and for all mortals, confronting the brevity of life and the unknowable mystery of death.

   Aragorn turned then and their eyes met, and all thought of pity burned away in the steady intensity of his gaze. Aragorn stepped towards Legolas and put his hands on Legolas' shoulders.

  
   'More than anything, I wish to kiss you. What does your music tell you to do ?'

 

 

 

 


End file.
